


Of Fear and Consequence

by terylarak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humour, Gen, Public Torture, Running Sarcastic Commentary by Draco Malfoy, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terylarak/pseuds/terylarak
Summary: In which Draco faces consequences he can no longer run from.





	Of Fear and Consequence

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and universe obviously belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.  
> Also, a quick thanks is in order to the gwbgc. Especially (to name a few) Stacy aka @skreamingninja for being my wonderful beta, Jojo aka @BigJellyMonster for being the best Angst Lord™ anyone could ask for, and Nessie aka @fairydrarry for being an amazing wife. (Anyone can feel free to punch me if I don't complete this, I really do want to go through with it until the end). 
> 
> Ohh boy. Okay, I've decided to leave this as a oneshot and I know I said I would let anyone punch me if I didn't complete this but I think in my head it is completed. I really am unable to continue this but I do believe that I could possibly come back to this one day. Till then, enjoy. Xoxo.

"Draco," an almost hesitant knock came at his door.

"Come in," Draco's voice sounded unnaturally low and scratchy in contrast to his mother’s smooth tones.

The ornate oak clicked open softly and he was greeted with the image of a teary-eyed Narcissa, who was so obviously trying to pull herself together for the sake of her son. Draco pushed his covers back and stood up, summoning all of the shrapnels of dignity he had left and using them to build the illusion of a strong exterior

“Mother," Draco whispered.

That was all it took. Narcissa was across the room in a second. She took Draco in her arms and, although he was bigger than her now, squeezed him as though she could shrink him small enough to fit in her pocket. Hide him away from what few dreadful things he had yet been forced to face.

Draco felt his mother start to draw back and fought to suppress a whimper. He studied her face and watched as she composed her strong, aristocratic features into the usual Malfoy mask that occupied them.

Draco reached a pale hand up and wiped a stray tear from his mother's face.

"I'm okay," he assured her. Or maybe he was assuring himself. Or maybe he was assuring both of them. Draco didn't believe it, and he doubted his mother did either.

She didn't answer, but nodded her head and set her lips in a grim line.

Narcissa fussed with her son’s fair hair and Draco frowned but made no move to stop her. "You're wanted in your father’s study within the hour."

Draco sucked in a breath of air and nodded his head in a single jerky motion.

Everyone communicated in nods and vague hand gestures lately. It was almost as though they were scared of using their voices too much. Which was oddly ironic, considering how they had all ended up here. Voicing opinions no one else wanted.

His mother exited the room and Draco - with a shaky exhale - made his way to the bathroom that was connected to his spacious bedroom. He stripped down with only a few seconds hesitation, still uneasy after an unfortunate incident with the wolf, Fenrir Greyback. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had called the obscenely large werewolf into some sort of emergency meeting before Draco had seriously injured him. Or been seriously injured.

As he showered, he wondered idly if this was how the Gryffindors had felt back in third year when Sirius Black had been on the loose. Nervous in their own house because of a lunatic hunting down the Chosen One. Hunting down Potter.

It was with a heavy heart that Draco stepped out of the shower and dressed. Nothing too fancy, this could hardly be considered a special occasion.

Draco wasn't stupid, he was well aware of the reasoning behind his requested presence.

Requested. Draco scoffed ever so slightly at the word. As if he had a choice. If he didn't show, he - and his mother - would be killed.

If he did show… he’d be punished. For his failure, and his father’s.

~

Deep breath. Sharp exhale. Draco put his hand on the doorknob to his father’s study. His eyes slid shut as he braced himself to open the door and face whatever was waiting for him on the other side.

Draco felt a delicate hand rest on his left shoulder lightly and he turned his head to meet his mother’s blue eyes. They held love and hints of reassurance, but Narcissa’s eyes had always been a direct window to her emotions, a trait she had unwillingly passed along to her son, and now they held barely concealed fear. Fear for the fate of the son she had raised. Fear for the boy who had no choice.

“Do you know-” Draco was cut off by the hesitant yet rough shaking of his mother’s head.

Grey eyes met blue one last time before Draco opened the door to his father’s study and stepped inside.

The tense atmosphere in the room prickled at Draco's skin. His father refused to even look in Draco’s direction from his place in a chair in the edge of the room. On the flip side, his Auntie Bella looked positively ecstatic, smiling maniacally as the occasional giggle - which sounded suspiciously like a cackle - escaped her thin lips.

Lord Voldemort sat at the wooden desk in the centre of the room, stiffly perched in the same chair Draco's father had sat in so many times before. There was something malicious glistening in his eyes. Though, that could just be one of the side effects of having red eyes. (Seriously, what muggle movie villain must the Dark Lord have based himself off of?)

The Dark Lord had always been intimidating but something was different this time.

“My Lord,” Draco regarded his master with a dip of his head.

“Draco,” The Dark Lord stood leisurely and a cold, cruel grin stretched across his white face as his snake, Nagini, slithered about near the bottoms of his robe. “You are to accompany us to Hogwarts, we have some… business to attend to.”

Draco had to restrain himself from furrowing his brow in confusion. (He could hear Pansy chastise him in his head, “Really, Draco, darling, that causes premature wrinkles,”).

“Yes, my Lord.”

~

Snow covered the Hogwarts grounds in a pillowy blanket. It seemed the sky, too, would have liked to cover the horrors that this war had conceived.

Draco walked behind his aunt and father, who were following the Dark Lord into the school. The irony of it all was not lost on Draco.

Familiar grey stone pillars towered around them as they entered the school. Every student in the vicinity - which wasn't many, considering almost all of the students were already in the great hall - turned to glance in their direction before quickly looking away and flicking their eyes elsewhere, either at their shoes or towards the ceiling.

Draco watched silently as the doors to the great hall opened to accept their little group.

A hush fell over the already nearly quiet hall. Draco couldn't think back to a time when the students had been this contained, not even after the death of Cedric Diggory, and it added to the ache he'd been feeling in his very soul since he had been marked a Death Eater, and therefore sealed his fate.

The Dark Lord stood at the front of the great hall, facing out towards the expanse of students.

“It has been brought to my attention that there are some,” the Dark Lord drawled and it made Draco regret ever using a similar tone, “who still resist my rule at this school.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes were skirting around the room - taking a particularly long look at Gryffindor table, Draco noted - before landing on Draco, himself.

A cruel smile stretched across his face and a shark’s mouth of teeth were put on display. “This will _not_ be tolerated,” His words remained as calm and calculated as ever, but there were heavy notes of underlying anger in them that Draco only knew how to detect because the man (if he could even be called that) had been _living in his house_.

“And while I am unsure of what has given these students the false impression that _Harry Potter_ is coming to save them,” He raised his arms up and glared cruelly out towards their audience, “No matter, I an here to right old wrongs, and give punishment to those who deserve it.”

Draco forced himself to stay still in his position between his Aunt Bellatrix and his father, Lucius. He was still confused as to why he, of all people, was asked to come along. He was also confused as to what they were doing here in the first place. Were they simply here to taunt the students with the hopelessness of their situation? No, he said he was here to ‘right old wrongs’ and to ‘give punishment’. Draco's stomach flipped sickly as he realized the implications of what was happening.

This was his punishment.

Draco was no fool. He knew this was only the beginning. The Dark Lord surely had more planned than to force Draco to stand in front of his former peers and watch as he mocked them, like a petty schoolboy did a crush. Surely, there was more to come.

Sudden commotion dragged Draco out of his thoughts. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of uproar, and of course, it came from Gryffindor table. Specifically, from a certain boy known as Neville and a certain girl known as Ginny.

So, Potter’s sometimes-sidekick and his little girlfriend. Great.

“Harry _is_ coming to save us you snake-faced bastard!” Longbottom burst out.

Girl Weasley stood next to him in a show of support, before yelling out, “Harry’s more of a leader than you could _ever_ hope to be!”

The Dark Lord surveyed them with a front of amusement but there was a certain amount of malice shining in eyes. “Bellatrix, restrain them.”

“With pleasure, My Lord,” His Aunt smiled in that extra disturbing way of hers. She aimed a Petrificus Totalus at Longbottom and before the Weaselette could protest she was hit with one as well.

Alecto and Amycus Carrow were at the scene within seconds, where they exchanged grins and levitated the two defiant teenagers out of the great hall. Bellatrix skipped merrily behind them, humming a tune and laughing to herself occasionally. Draco grimaced in sympathy.

“Lucius,” The Dark Lord’s high, cold voice echoed in the suddenly silent again hall. “The boy.”

Alarms rang in Draco's head as a heavy sense of foreboding fell upon him. White-hot anxiety was coursing though his veins as his palms started to sweat and he was fighting the urge to _run_.

Large hands that belonged to Draco’s father gripped his wrists and Draco could feel waves of confusion rolling around inside the hall.

The telltale static of a radio being turned on filled the room. Merlin, they were broadcasting this?

“Now,” The Dark Lord said, “You know what you’ve done.”

Draco's heartbeat increased tenfold. He was trying to control his breathing as he risked a glance toward the tables.

His gaze landed first on Pansy. She looked terribly frightened as Blaise kept one hand on her arm, a look of set determination on his face. When he met Pansy’s eyes the look on her face shifted into defiance. But her eyes, her eyes held a question.

_‘Should we_ _help?’_

Draco managed a small and subtle shake of his head and watched as tears filled her eyes. But Draco did not miss the slight flashing of relief. Pansy’s Slytherin self-preservation was still a strong part of her.

 _Good_ , Draco thought, _Maybe she’ll make it through this War._

He directed a look at Blaise and knew he understood it perfectly as his shoulders slumped the smallest bit. But his chin stayed high in the air, every bit the pure blooded heir he was, while he comforted Pansy.

Draco took a deep breath and turned his head to face the Dark Lord, who had used the time Draco had taken to watch his friends to speak of his greatness. Speak of how no one could disobey the Dark Lord and get away with it.

_The task must be completed, no matter the consequences or difficulty._

Draco remembered those words from when he had first been given his assignment. An impossible task.

The Dark Lord stared directly at Draco as his long, white fingers curled around his wand. He whipped the wand up and pointed it at Draco.

Draco felt the grip of his father’s hands intensify in their place of holding Draco's wrists behind his back.

Draco _knew_ he should stare the Dark Lord down as he was punished. _Knew_ he should exert some form of bravery. A way of showing he was not scared. But he was. _He was so scared._

And although Draco knew he should do all of this, he also knew he wouldn't. Because those were all the kinds of things a Gryffindor like Potter would do. And Draco was not a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin through and through.

So Draco shut his eyes.


End file.
